


Wizarding Waltz

by misscassietaylor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscassietaylor/pseuds/misscassietaylor
Summary: Harry, along with a few other students, have decided to come back to Hogwarts (per the invite) to finish out their education. He has been personally chosen by another wizarding family to accompany their daughter at the Yule Ball the family is hosting. Only problem? Harry doesn't know how to dance. He'll fake it until he makes it or die trying! Unless someone is willing to teach him...





	1. Chapter 1

Sounds of the idle train rang inside Harry's head as he lugged the lone suitcase behind him on the station platform. The suitcase was more so awkward to carry due to its size rather than weight. He hadn't packed much for his return to Hogwarts for his Eighth Year--there didn't seem to be much of a point to pack more than a few robes and the required materials that had come to him as a list via owl just a week prior.    
  
Harry was...emotional, to say the least, to get the invitation to return to school to finish out his education. For some reason, returning to Hogwarts did not cross his mind at all after the war. He had become much too busy recovering and fighting off the press for a word and a moment of his time. Harry had considered not responding, just saying sod it and continue his life as it were: to find a job and try to begin settling down. However, Hermione had a very valid point during one night while he was ranting and raving to her about anything that crossed his mind: this would give him closure. To come back to the place where it all began and where it all happened (and, in addition, to finish his education properly). Of course, she had said, it would be difficult and it would be painful to handle, but in the end, after all is said and done, he would feel better.   
  
That night had been a long one. It started out as him and Hermione having dinner and a bit of wine (Ron had been at work, he is an Auror now, and they had him working long after his shift due to more chaos in the streets of the Wizarding London) when an owl tapped on the window sill outside in the fading light.  The owl had been carrying an official looking letter with--Harry's heart skipped a beat-- the Hogwarts seal. Harry had stared at it for a couple of minutes after tossing it onto the dining table between Hermione and him.    
  
"What d'you reckon might be in that?" Harry asked, the question mostly rhetorical and cynicism dripping in his voice. Hermione had pursed her lips and grabbed the envelope, breaking the seal and opening the contents.  She flattened the letter and sighed once she had read the first few sentences. Her eyebrows slid up behind her bangs and she exhaled slowly.   
  
"I got one of these too," she said, as she slid the paper in Harry's direction. Curiously (and with a hint of attitude) he had snatched up the paper and skimmed it for a few moments.    
  
"Seriously?" And this launched him into an almost hour and a half tirade (the sun had gone down at that point, and Hermione had to interrupt to light the room up) of ' _ who do they think they are? _ ' and ' _ why on Earth would I go back to that place?' _ to which Hermione listened to patiently. She did this often for him: letting Harry vent until his voice ran dry and Hermione could finally get a word in. She usually never tried to interrupt as she's tried this before and Harry would usually drown her out with his own voice, hardly even listening when in the moment.     
  
It would all end the same way as it would tonight. Harry, defeated and voice hoarse, would say in a weak tone: "I mean, what am I supposed to do 'Mione?" And Harry buried his head in his hands.    
  
"I think you should go," Hermione said, taking a sip of her now stone-cold tea with a small grimace.    
  
"What?" Harry looked up from his hands and stared at her. "What do you mean, I should go?" And his eyes narrowed on her slightly    
  
"I mean what I said. You should go." Harry scoffed at this, opening his mouth to retort, but Hermione beat him to it, "I am," she said.    
  
"You're going?" And Harry's eyes widened, thoughts reeling.   
  
"Of course I am. Ron's not, obviously, he's much too busy. But yes, I will be going to finish out school. They said they would be offering career help and tutoring for us so we can finish out our N.E.W.T.S." Hermione shrugged and took a sip from her mug again. "I think you need closure, Harry." She had said this with pity in her eyes.

  
  
The trains whistle cut through Harry's thoughts and he looked around suddenly, aware of his surroundings. He had somehow made it across the station toward the front of the train, near where the Prefect's carriage would be, and a thought occurred to him: Would Hermione be sitting up there with the other Prefects or was that all out the window? Harry supposed he'd find out.    
  
Shuffling backward against the wall of the station to wait for the train to begin boarding, he looked around at the sight before him. The station was bustling: younger students carrying their bags and suitcases while juggling their pets amongst them. He recognized no one and felt extremely uncomfortable, out of place, until--  
  
"Harry! Oi!" Harry's head whipped around to the familiar voice and saw Ron's red-haired head bouncing between other people, trying to swim his way to Harry. Behind him, Hermione followed.    
  
Harry smiled and pushed himself from the brick wall and took a few steps forward to meet them. "I thought you weren't--"  
  
"I'm not, I'm just seeing 'Mione off," he said with a grin. He stopped in front of Harry and his arm slid comfortably around Hermione's shoulders.    
"Ohh," Harry said with a forced smile, sounding slightly awkward. He didn't know why there was that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; he knew Ron would not be returning for the Eighth Year, but for some reason, he hoped his friend might have changed his mind.  
  
They chatted for a few minutes, most of it being small talk as Harry was much too anxious to get into anything more serious than 'enjoy the train ride over' or 'write me from time to time.'   
  
Finally, it was time to board. He and Hermione found an empty carriage and slid their bags under their seats and slid the door closed, closing them off from the outside noise.  Apparently, Hermione was staying with him, and this seemed to make Harry feel a bit happier.  
  
"You okay?" Hermione asked, that same pity in her eyes from last week.  
  
"Yeah, of course," Harry said with a sigh as he nestled himself against the window. He didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want to look at anyone either.  He just wanted to get to Hogwarts so he can sleep until the end of the term.   
  
\--------------------  
  
Hermione shook him awake a long while later and told him to get dressed because they'll be getting to the station here soon. Sluggishly, Harry obliged and slipped on his tailored school robes as Hermione spoke to him. "I owled Headmistress McGonagall about how everything will work for Eighth Years since there's never really been a situation like that at Hogwarts, and she said that we would be pretty much our own class. They've added a new wing for us and everything. I think it'll be nice." Hermione had finished dressing and pulled the rest of her luggage from under her seat and set it on top.  They let all the other students file out first, waiting for the initial rush off the train to die down.   
  
Once they stepped foot off the train, they shuffled off to the side, out of the way and more towards the familiar faces he saw doing the same.  Some of those faces included Hannah Abbott, Neville Longbottom, Cho Chang (who Harry took a brief moment to wave to silently as they caught each other's eyes) and--Harry's head suddenly started pounding, a terrible headache easing in between his ears as he then caught the eyes of Draco Malfoy.   
  
"What the hell is he doing here?" He murmured to Hermione, letting his gaze linger on Malfoy (who immediately looked away upon noticing Harry) for just a moment longer, before turning his eyes back front looking at nothing in particular.   
  
"Hmm?" Hermione looked around and made another humming noise as she noticed Malfoy as well.  "Huh, I didn't think he would come back either. Not sure." She shrugged and turned back around. Their group was the smallest yet. Only a handful of students had come back for this Eighth Year. Most of them had families already and lives they had to get on with, and others, well-- ...Harry forced himself to stop this train of thought, shaking his head vigorously.   
  
Harry saw Headmistress McGonagall making her way across the crowd, apparently noticing that all the Eighth Years were huddling together in a loose group. Once she met up with the group, she raised her hand in the air, shouting above the crowd: "Any other Eighth Years, over here! Eighth Years, over here please!" She kept her hand raised and looked around to the group. "Do you know of anyone else from your year joining us?" and the response was quiet, murmuring amongst each other and looking side to side, not fully committed to replying. McGonagall pursed her lips and turned her head away, looking into the crowd, her sharp chin raised upward in the air. The first years had already made their way across the lake with Hagrid (who Harry made effort to try and catch his eye, but with no luck--Hagrid probably wasn't expecting Harry to come back this year).   
  
A few more students Harry vaguely remembered and recognized joined the group and McGonagall decided to call it and they walked by foot up the long pathway to the school. There was small conversation above the sound of a dozen footsteps on cement path. There were small chirpings of nocturnal insects all around them and the sky above then was clear, sun setting and some stairs becoming visible ahead of them. It all seemed so surreal to Harry now. He didn't think he'd be here so soon, so suddenly and he felt like he was not within his body. He felt like he was just outside of it, watching himself move along the path with everyone else.    
  
McGonagall's voice interrupted his blank state of mind. Somehow, they had already made it up at the doors of the school. Everyone would have been inside by now.  "You will not be joining your houses at the feasts any longer. You have your separate tables together toward the back. When you first walk in, you'll see them right before the longer tables start. I'll take you to your new common room after the feast, and we'll discuss the ground rules." Everyone murmured in reply as she opened the giant, ornate doors to the Great Hall.  
  
It was exactly as Harry had remembered. The enchanted ceilings that seemed to go on forever, floating candles, the long hard oak tables that ran long ways down the hall with runners of their respective house colors running down the length, and the staff table at the very front.   
  
"Over here," Hermione took Harry by the elbow--apparently he was staring--and guided him to the right.  Against the wall of the door they just came from was a long table that didn't look unlike the staff table, only at the back of the room. It was oak just the same with a long golden runner down the middle. A line of seats ran on one side of the table, facing out into the room. Everyone took a seat as the first years began their sorting ceremony.   
  
It was a long and dull ordeal. Harry vaguely recalled the memory of his own sorting and all the sorting he was able to witness over the years, trying to remember bits of the Sorting Hat's song year by year, but not bothering to listen to the one being chanted today; it hardly mattered, it seemed.   
  
Once everyone had been sorted, McGonagall hurried up to the front staff table and started speaking to the crowd. Harry drown this out; it simply was not the same anymore. It felt like he was in a stranger's house, unwelcome and out of place.  Catching himself inside his head again, he jerked his head up and closed his eyes with purpose. _Inhale, picture your lungs expanding, filling with air, now exhale, and picture your lungs contracting, repeat. Again. Breathe. Again. Breath._   
  
Harry opened his eyes and everything seemed a bit more clear now. He glanced down the table and saw quick movement. A blonde head quickly looking away, as if it had been caught staring.  Harry furrowed his brow and his eyes lingered on Malfoy for just another moment, but Malfoy seemed to be refusing to look at Harry again. Looking down at his plate that suddenly filled with food, Harry's stomach churned. He felt like someone was stretching his stomach and then pressing in on it, making his stomach feel empty and cramped. He stood from his seat and left the Great Hall, not having a bite of food. Hermione knew better to chase after him at this point. She would wait a while longer before hunting him down; she learned that Harry sometimes simply needed space.  
  
Hurrying out to the entrance hall, Harry cut left into a different corridor, heading towards the nearest restroom block, pushing open the door and resting his hands on the porcelain sink. The lights were dimmer than usual, and this seemed to help with his nausea. Harry closed his eyes and turned on the sink, stuffing the sink plug to fill the basin with ice cold water. He waited for what seemed like hours for the basin to be just a few inches deep before he forced his head down and into the water, shocking his skin. He almost gasped at the chill, but kept his head firmly under the water, embracing the chills running down his spine. After a few moments, he lifted his head from the water and stared at himself in the mirror. However, the scene changed behind him.  
  
Malfoy stood in the foyer of the bathroom, watching Harry silently. There was hardly any emotion that was showing on his face. No sneers, no smirks. Just...monotonous, deadpan expression. Harry blinked a couple times and took off his glasses to dry them with his robes as he turned to properly face Malfoy. "I uh-" he started dumbly, water still dripping from his hair down his face.   
  
"Why did you come back?" Malfoy cut Harry off almost as soon as he started talking. Malfoy's head tilted to one side, seeming almost genuinely curious.   
  
"I could ask the same of you. Actually, in addition to that, I could ask why you followed me to the loo," Harry narrowed his eyes as he placed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. _Malfoy wanted to ask_ him _that? Classic!_  
  
Something fierce flashed across Malfoy's face at that moment and his lips seemed to slightly curl into a smirk. "I'm a bit of a voyeur, Potter, can't you tell?" So it's like that?  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror to gaze upon himself, moving his wet hair around and out of his eyes. "As you were then," he murmured, shoving his hand into the basin and removing the plug, letting the water drain out. Harry turned around, nodding at Malfoy with pursed lips and slipping into the corridor, making his way back to the Great Hall. Outside of the entrance to the Hall, however, McGonagall was waiting with the rest of the Eighth Years, looking around, apparently waiting on him. A faint blush crept up his face as he quickened his pace to join Hermione in the group. Had he really been in the restroom that long?  
  
"I was just about to come and find you. After Malfoy left, it made me nervous, I figured he would go and hunt you down," Hermione said this all very quickly and softly.   
  
"He did. Nearly trapped me in the toilets, the git." Harry knew he was exaggerating, but he was still annoyed all the same.

 

“Did he say anything to you?” Hermione tilted her head in Harry’s direction. 

  
“No. Not really...he wanted to know why I came back. And he said something about being a pervert,” Harry decided to add that last bit in as a treat to himself. Hermione hummed in response as Malfoy rounded the corner to join the group as well. She and Harry watched him for a moment until the group started moving along the corridor. They walked for a few minutes, turning here and there until they came across a short corridor with one painting along the one side depicting a strange sight: a dark painting with a side facing skull floating, wearing a shimmering cloak. An arm reached out from within the cloak and a wand was poised in the skeletal hand, a silvery blue light reflecting From the end of the wand. All else in the painting was dark.    
  
"Tipsy topsy," McGonagall said clearly, and the full-length painting swung forward, opening up into a spacious common room.    
  
The walls were painted a dark sienna color with a dark wood accent along the bottom. Black wooden shelves lined randomly through the back wall where a light stone fireplace that was lit with dancing flames. Around the room, there were squashy chairs plotted randomly in a vague circle pattern, and faded rugs were just as randomly placed. It felt comfortable and homey inside the room as everyone filed in and took seats throughout the room. The portrait behind McGonagall swung closed and she turned to the small group.    
  
"So this year, due to the..small volume of your class, you'll be taking all of your classes together. Of course, your schedules will be different as you've probably chosen different classes for your N.E.W.T. level courses, but you'll all be treated as your own separate house. With that being said," McGonagall threaded her fingers together in front of her abdomen. You'll not be required to do the same as the other years. You're all adults and of age, and there's no getting around that. You'll not have to keep track of house points. You'll not have a curfew," some murmurs waved through the room, "and you'll not have the same out-of-bounds restrictions." Harry immediately thought of the forest as she said this and waved it off.  _ Big loss _ , he said to himself with sarcasm.    
  
"Upstairs, you'll all find you have separate rooms that adjoin together as a suite down the hall." McGonagall did not explain this further. "If you have any questions, please reach out to me or another faculty member as well." And with this, she nodded her head, turned on her heel and left the room.    
  
There was a soft click as the portrait swung closed and a short silence followed throughout the room.    
  
"Anyone want any of my chocolate frogs?" Neville said out to the room, looking around with the box in his hand. Harry smiled slowly and reached out, taking the box from Neville.   
  
"Cheers," Harry said as he tore into the package. Mild conversation began around him as students spoke among themselves. Hannah and Cho stood and left the room in the direction of the dormitories, Hannah yawning as she went. As soon as Harry opened his frog, he regretted it. He flipped the card inside around and there was Dumbledore's smiling profile staring back at him with a twinkle in his eye. Many memories forced their way into Harry's head.  Memories he hadn't thought of in months, even years. Dumbledore had been the first card he'd ever gotten from a chocolate frog. Harry felt himself paling and he quickly flipped the card over and stuffed it under his thigh. Breaking off small pieces of chocolate with his thumb, he chewed the chocolate slowly. The sweet taste of cocoa and sugar met his tongue and Harry closed his eyes, pushing the memories of Dumbledore in the living world from his head.    
  
"I'm...gonna turn in for the night. Long day tomorrow." Harry stood and bowed out of the room, and from the corner of his eye as he left, he saw Hermione pick up the card he left on the sofa and turn it over in her fingers.   
  
Harry looked down the narrow hallway and took in the sight before him. It looked almost like a Muggle hotel, like the ones he would see in movies or television shows while he lived with the Dursley's (because they would  _ never _ spend the money to let Harry stay at a hotel in person). Doors lined the hall on either side. Each door looked like the next: large, dark oak that reached the low ceiling. Nothing was on the doors except that there was a ribbon tacked to the first two doors, both black with gold calligraphy lettering. The first one on the first door read H.A., and the second read C.C., each stuck to the door in the top corner. Harry presumed this was where Hannah and Cho chose to keep, and Harry moved to the next room where it was a blank door. He touched the golden doorknob and the door was locked. He moved further down and tried the next one: locked again. Furrowing his brow, he tried every other door in the hall and finally came to the second to last on the left and the doorknob felt warm beneath his hand and the door swung open with ease, almost before he turned the knob all the way. From the upper corner of the door, a similar black ribbon unraveled from seemingly nowhere, and embroidered golden lettering appeared reading H.P.   
  
Relieved, Harry stepped inside and quickly closed the door. His single case was stowed at the end of his bed and the sconces around his room were lit, giving off a dim and warm light. The decor around his room looked very basic: nothing but the sconces on the wall and a large window on the wall opposite the door; there were also two other doors, one on the left and one on the right, likely the doors to  the other rooms (Harry waved his wand with a soft  _ Colloportus _ to lock both doors). A four-poster bed with a cream colored duvet and white sheets sat against the wall toward the middle of the room. There was an ottoman of the same color at the end of the bed with a writing desk further on in the corner with a dark wood chair. A periwinkle and cream Nain rug laid at his feet and stretched to under his bed and almost to the other wall where the window was.    
  
Harry shrugged off his school robes and tossed it up high, aiming at one of the posts on his bed to make it catch and hang there. And then there was a soft knock on his door. Thinking Hermione was coming to just say goodnight, Harry tilted his head over his shoulder. "Come in," he called out.   
  
There was a muffled and hesitant noise followed by a second of silence before the door clicked open and Malfoy stood in the doorway.   
  
"Oh," Harry said blankly. "I thought you were Hermione."   
  
"Alas.”  Malfoy stated eloquently. "I want to say something to you, Potter." Malfoy didn't move any further into the room, staying right in the doorway.    
  
"Alright," Harry turned fully around to face Malfoy.    
  
"I don't know about any kind of issues you still have with me." Malfoy furrowed his brow as he paused. Harry just stared at him, silent. "But, I just want an uneventful year. I'm too tired to keep pretending to hate you for no reason. You've saved my life, and for that I'm appreciative.” Malfoy's voice was cutting and short, almost insincere.  Harry blinked a few times, keeping his eyes on Malfoy for a long while before opening his mouth.   
  
"So," he started, "you just want to pretend," Harry's voice was sounding more and more incredulous with each word, "that nothing's happened." Harry's chin dropped at the last word and his eyebrow raised, not sure he heard Malfoy correctly. Part of Harry was incredibly pissed off and the other part was incredibly relieved. He had nearly felt the same way. He didn't want any more schoolboy fights, he didn't want any more petty rows or any of the other stress that usually graced within Malfoy's immediate presence. At the same time, though, after everything they had been through together last year? Malfoy wanted to forget it all? Harry could feel his face warming, temper rising.    
  
Malfoy sighed. "You're not  _ listening, Potter _ ." Malfoy scoffed. “What I'm trying to  _ say  _ is let's just be  _ civil. _ ”   
  
Harry inhaled and held his breath for a moment before exhaling slowly. Malfoy was right. They could tolerate each other to an extent, and they had already been through so much, the both of them, they might even be able to be somewhat friends. Harry nodded. "Alright then." And he strode over to the doorway and in response, Malfoy stiffened. Harry stuck out his hand with a hint of a smile playing on his lips."My name's Harry Potter."   
  
Malfoy's face visibly contorted into a grimace. "Merlin's sake, Potter."   
  
Harry pushed his open hand out further, grinning.    
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes and stuck his hand out to briefly hold Harry's with a gentle shake. Harry couldn't help but notice that Malfoy's hand seemed incredibly soft (which didn't seem to surprise him) and the tips of his fingers cool while the palm of Malfoy's hand was warm. "Hello Harry Potter, my name's Draco Malfoy." Malfoy squeezed Harry's hand gently before releasing. Harry's hand felt suddenly felt cold again and he pressed his palm against his thigh to displace this feeling.    
  
"Goodnight, then, Malfoy," Harry turned again walking to the end of the room to blow out one of the five sconces on the wall.   
  
"Goodnight, Potter," and with that, Malfoy disappeared behind the doorway and the oak door closed with a soft click as Harry blew out the rest of the sconces on the wall.   



	2. Chapter 2

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Harry's eyes fluttered open and he noticed several things at once. The room he was in was dark and damp, only one source of light stood out from around him and it was a small oil lamp several feet away from him. The light was dim and it flickered ominously off of the concrete walls around it. Harry tried to lift his hand to reach out for the lamp, but his arm stopped, hindered by a cool metal against his wrist. He looked down, seeing only a small glint of gunmetal steel against the stark black of the room around him. Harry shook his arms again, and again the metal hindered him. Was he chained up? Handcuffed? Where was he?_

_Footsteps. Harry's head snapped up after what seemed like several minutes. Footsteps were tapping closer, ahead of him.  Was there a hallway? A door? The tap of the heel of a shoe against concrete (a deep click, like boots) echoed closer, closer, closer, then stopped. The sound of metal sliding against metal as a key fit into a keyhole and the click of a lock shifting all echoed softly around him and Harry's breathing nearly stopped. A door opened silently, a few more clicks against concrete and the door closed again with a loud click._

_“Who are you? Where am I?” Harry shifted himself upwards and shimmied his way against the wall a couple inches towards the light source, hoping the person intruding would walk toward him to reveal their identity._

_There was no response other than the remaining echo of Harry's voice and the continuous drips from somewhere in that room. There was silence for several minutes before Harry heard the clicking heels again and from the light, Harry saw the bottom hemline of a black cloak flowing gently._

_“Let me leave. Let me leave before I-” Harry's voice stopped in his throat. It felt like someone had just shoved their fist down into his esophagus and holding his voice down. It almost felt like he couldn't breathe, but Harry was taking quick breaths, heartbeat racing from the sudden invasion of magic._

_“Shhh.”  Harry only had a few moments before a sharp stabbing pain hit him everywhere. Every inch of his skin, every organ, even his mouth and eyes felt like there were large needles stabbing him repeatedly, like being under a hundred electric sewing machines. Harry let out a loud yell, screaming into the darkness and cursing this wretched person for doing this to him, putting him through this pain. Harry tried to reposition himself, curl up, spread out, roll over. Anything. Anything to stop this pain. He could feel his vision starting to fade; he was going to pass out, he could feel it. Suddenly, a white face came into view. The pale, cold face of Voldemort._

Harry jerked awake and sprang from his bed. He nearly tripped onto the floor from the bed sheets that became wrapped around him in his sleep. Sweat was slowly dripping down from his forehead and his breathing was heavy and shaky. He was back in his room at Hogwarts, and Harry slowly realized that it was all a nightmare.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_ . Harry jumped and jerked his head to the moonlit door across the room. Someone wanted in. Harry's eyes looked wild as he stared at the door and advanced on it slowly. _Wand!_ a voice said in the back of his head. Harry darted back to his nightstand and held his wand, ready.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_ . “Harry, are you awake in there? I'm going to open this door in two seconds if you don't answer me. Harry?” _Had he been shouting in his sleep again?_ Harry could feel his chest relax when he heard Hermione's soft, muffled voice behind the door. Harry ignored the voice shouting at him ( _'a trap!’_ ) and he padded across the room to open the door.

A very tired Hermione stood in the darkened hall holding a cup in her hands. Her hair was disheveled from sleep and a hint of baggage under her eyes was present from disruption of said sleep. “Let me in?” Hermione brought a wrist to her face and rubbed her eye.  Harry didn't speak a word as he opened the door further and stepped aside. Hermione walked carefully into the room and to the bed. “Come on, come sit down.” Although she was tired, her voice was calm, almost soothing. Harry quietly closed the door and followed Hermione and shuffled into his bed per her waving hand to do so.

“I had a dream,” Harry's voice came out more croaky than he thought it would and he cleared his throat. “Voldemort,” he said, voice clearer.

“It was just a dream." Hermione agreed. "He's dead now. For good this time.” She handed him the cup of water which Harry took gratefully, sipping it quickly. “Slow down, you'll make yourself sick.” Harry put the cup down in his cross-legged lap and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, keeping the cup steady with the other. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry almost said no, but he found that he couldn't help himself.  He told Hermione what had happened, how scared he felt, how cold he was. When he finished, he drank the water again.

Hermione pursed her lips and stared at Harry with those understanding eyes that Harry was always so grateful for. “Maybe it was a flashback. Of someone else's memories?” Hermione couldn't help but speak out loud, to try to make sense of this dream. Harry simply shrugged and drank the rest of his water then handing the empty cup back to Hermione.

“Thanks, Hermione.” Harry pulled his knees up and rested his chin on top. Hermione stood and set the cup on the nightstand. She leaned over and wrapped Harry in her arms, squeezing gently.

“Try to get some sleep.” She pushed her hand into his hair and pulled him close. “It's going to be okay,” and she pulled back with a small smile on her lips.  Taking the cup, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

 

\--------------------

 

Harry woke the next morning feeling slightly out of place. He felt like he was not exactly in his own body, more like he was watching himself do things from his point of view. He had already been down to the Great Hall for breakfast (which he ate with little ease). “ _You have to eat something, Harry.”_ Hermione had said. Right now, Harry was sitting in one of the oversized armchairs in the Eighth Year common room, watching the fireplace, eyes glazed and mind elsewhere, but nowhere in particular. The room was empty. Everyone else was attending classes, and Harry decided he could forgo the first day of lessons. The portrait door swung open and Headmistress McGonagall's fierce stature walked in. Harry’s head snapped up and he blinked a few times as he turned to look at her.

“Mr. Potter, could you come to join me in my office?” This was not a question.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry tried to sound cheerful, but even he knew he didn't quite make the mark. He stood and followed McGonagall through the halls in silence until they made it up the spiral staircase to her office.  Harry tried to ignore everything that was around him _especially_ the portrait of Dumbledore smiling back at him. He sat across from McGonagall as she took her own seat behind a large cherry wood desk.

“Now, I know I told you the other night that you wouldn't be subject to the same strict rules as the rest of the years. That by no means meant that you were allowed to skip going to your lessons.” McGonagall straightened her spectacles and leaned forward on the desk. Harry opened his mouth to reply but was promptly cut off by McGonagall speaking again. “Regardless of your reasons, which I'm sure you have _many_ , that is not why I brought you up here.”

Harry furrowed his brow and shut his mouth as she continued. “I've received an owl just the other day about a family who is requesting your presence. The family name is Roux and they have a daughter. Her name is Abigail. Now, I don't know why they've decided upon this, and I hope you do agree to do this, but her family has invited you to a party they will be throwing during Yule.” McGonagall raised her eyebrows in expectation, hoping that Harry would understand.

“I’m to dance with this girl at a Ball her family is planning?” Harry said plainly.

“Essentially. She's invited you to her home for the holidays where there's going to be a grand party. You'll show up, dance with her for a night, and be back in Hogwarts by the following morning.” McGonagall pursed her lips and continued to stare at Harry.

“Why?”

McGonagall sighed. “She requested you specifically. Which I'm sure you can understand why.” Her eyes softened as she leaned back against her large leather chair.

“I can't dance.”

“You would have to learn, Mr. Potter.”

“Right.” Harry reached up and scratched his neck. “Would I have to….be in a..” before he could finish, thankfully, McGonagall raised her hand.

“Of course not. Don’t be daft.” McGonagall paused. “Unless….you prefer to. But no, you would not have to court her or even befriend her. But I would ask that you be polite.”

“Right,” Harry said dully. “Yeah, right. Sure, I can do that.” This felt weird.

McGonagall let out a breath. Was it relief? “Thank you. I appreciate you agreeing to this. Now be off, you have a waltz to learn before the Ball!” McGonagall plastered on a small smile as Harry lifted himself from the chair. “Oh! Look in the Great Hall in the corner behind the staff dining table. You might need what's back there.” Harry nodded, thanked her and left the office.

The rest of the day went by in a slow blur. After lunch, Harry decided to stop sulking around the empty common room and distract himself by attending the rest of the day's classes. His schedule had Defense Against the Dark Arts (double period) and then Charms. _An easy enough day_ , Harry thought beforehand. Rather, it _would have_ been easy if he wasn't running on barely any sleep with his mind swimming in and out of concentration.  Harry found it hard to focus on anything either of the professors were saying or instructing. He did well enough though: he was able to write the appropriate notes and cast the appropriate spells (barely).

Soon, it was time for dinner. Harry sat with Hermione almost silent while she told him about his day. Harry briefly mentioned what McGonagall had told him earlier that day and Hermione seemed happy for him.

“That's great, Harry! A bit strange, yes, but it sounds fun! Gives you a chance to meet other people, open your circle.” Hermione rubbed his shoulder gently before returning to her pork roast stew. Harry supposed she had a point. He could network around while out on this...mission.

When Harry was finished eating, he sat and waited a bit for more people to file out of the Great Hall; he didn't know what to expect behind the staff table and decided he didn't want an audience to accompany him upon finding out. Hermione waited with him and when there were only a few students remaining in the hall, he stood and walked up to the staff table, Hermione following behind. They peered behind the table and there sitting on a long old oak table covered in dust sat a Gramophone. _Oh for Merlin’s sake._ McGonagall expected him to lug this thing back to his room!? _No way._ He looked over to Hermione who was frowning.

“Well. I'm sure a feather-light spell would work fine on it.” Hermione said this with little confidence.

“It's big. I'm not parading this thing through the school.” Harry actually started laughing. “Just imagine that Hermione. _This thing_ , floating through the halls. What will people think of me then.”

“You're being ridiculous. They would think you're listening to music.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine, you'll just have to practice your dances in here.” Once she said this, Harry’s face paled and he grimaced. “You could do it after dinner! When everyone's gone and in their common rooms!” Hermione added quickly. With a sigh, Harry nodded.

“Probably the best way. No one would be around and if anyone asks…” Harry trailed off and then after a few seconds, he shrugged. “Oh well.”

They left the Great Hall after that and retreated to the common room. Harry decided he’d better change out of school robes and wear something a bit more comfortable.

As he passed the large room to go back to his bedroom, he passed Malfoy who was sitting in a chair by the fire, back straight, head tilted down reading a large book. Malfoy looked up from his book and watched Harry as he walked through the room in a hurry. Harry gave a small nod as he passed through. Malfoy quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, returning to his book.

Harry hurried down the hall and into his room, closing the door behind him quickly. He'd better hurry down if he wanted enough practice in before it got too late. Harry shrugged off his cloak and tossed it onto his bed. The only things he kept on was his white button up, black slacks and his tie because _why the hell not_. He walked briskly from his room, Malfoy again looking up and watching as Harry left in a rush. As the portrait swung closed, so did the book Malfoy was reading.

Harry's footsteps echoed through the halls as he passed the last few students making their way back to their house common rooms. He would smile or nod at them as he passed but did not stop until he made it to the Great Hall. He briskly walked to the Gramophone and crouched in front of it. It was now that he realized he didn't know what he was doing.

“What in the hell?” Harry peered around the machine. He's only seen how these worked in the short times he was able to catch a glimpse of the television when with the Dursley’s. “Uhhh…” Harry lifted the arm of the Gramophone which snapped into place in an upward position. “Oh. Okay then. I guess now I need….” He trailed off, looking below the table where a light colored wooden crate sat with large thin paper sleeves were piled up. “Ah-ha!” Harry took out a couple of them and leafed through the titles. He skipped over quite a few before he landed on _Wizardly Waltzes._ “Sure,” he said to himself and pulled the record from the sleeve and placed it on the flat surface of the Gramophone. He placed the needle gently on the outer edge of the record and let go.

A single cord rang through, then faded into silence and the record stopped moving. Harry furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. He lifted the needle again and placed it on the inner edge of the record after the paper label. A few seconds of scratchy silence went by and then a crescendo of stringed instruments started to play. The music was very slow and very soft for the first minute or so, then more instruments came together and the music picked up in beat and picked up in volume. Harry listened to the track the full way through, just listening to how the music sounded and what he might need to do. How hard could it be? Just move your feet a couple times, hold her close and smile, right?

Not fully convinced by himself, Harry stood. He lifted the needle again, stopping the very end of the track and placed it at the beginning again. He darted out to the side of the table and stood, back straight, right arm outstretched in front of him and the left arm outstretched to his left and bent at the elbow at a slight angle. When the music began again, Harry started moving. Though he was alone, a deep blush crept up from his neck and splashed his cheeks. He felt incredibly silly, but he had to keep going. He remembered hearing something about three counts (maybe four?) with his feet and repeating it in a large circle (or something?), so he did just that. He moved one foot out to the left, then together again, same foot forward, then together again. He did this repeatedly and it felt right, and Harry started to smile. _This is gonna be a piece of cake!_ He started to move his hips with the music, his feet losing the momentum with the beat, but Harry didn't care; he kept dancing, arms still outstretched, imaging whatever this woman were to look like in front of him. Finally, the song ended as the last chord rang softly through the hall, and Harry's feet came to an awkward halt.

Someone started clapping slowly from the back of the hall. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he could feel his face burning hot. _Oh, God._ He whirled around but saw no one for just a moment.

Malfoy walked out from the shadows in the back of the room, still clapping slowly. A smirk was cemented on his face and his eyes were staring Harry down as he walked. _Shit._

“Have you really never waltzed before, Potter?” There was humor in his voice, like he was just waiting to howl with laughter.

Finding his voice, Harry spoke, softer than he intended. “I thought I did pretty well.” This time, Malfoy _did_ laugh.

“It was an absolute trainwreck if I'm being _nice_.” That stupid smirk was still on Malfoy's stupid face. Harry closed his eyes and rubbed the side of his face with his hand, groaning softly.  Malfoy had reached him at this point, having stepped on the raised floor of the back of the hall. He craned his neck around to look at the Gramophone. “Oh,” he spoke with nonchalant happiness, like he'd just been told he could have an extra sweet at dinner time, and walked toward it. Malfoy’s delicate fingers reached out and lifted the needle again, letting it lock into the upright position. His head tilted as he looked at Harry. “Watch.”

Malfoy walked toward down off of the raised platform and stood in front of Harry about ten feet away. “It's six counts. One, two--”

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, voice shaking slightly. Was Malfoy really trying to help him right now? This was so bizarre.

“I said _watch_ .” Malfoy waited a few moments, but Harry did not interject again. “One,” Malfoy moved his left foot forward. “Two,” he moved his right foot out to the right (about shoulder width apart now). “Three,” and he brought his left foot to meet his right. “Four,” he stepped back with his right foot, placing it behind his left. “Five,” he moved his left foot back to the left (again, shoulder width apart). “And six,” and he brought his right foot to meet next to his left. Malfoy's eyes stayed on Harry the entire time he did this, making sure Harry was watching every move his feet made. After a few silent moments, Malfoy this again, only slightly faster. “One, two, three, four, five, and six.” Malfoy's feet were near silent on the concrete floor. Again, there was silence and Malfoy sighed, annoyed. “ _Are you paying attention, Potter?_ ” Malfoy rested his hands on his hips, waiting for a reply.

“Of course I'm paying attention!” Harry snapped more than he intended to.

“Go on, then, let me see!” Now Malfoy was annoyed. He crossed his arms over his chest and moved back. “Show me.”

“Uhh..” Harry looked down at his feet and began moving. Left foot forward. Or was it right? Too late, he tried to overcorrect and he heard Malfoy's voice again.

“Stop. Get down here.”

Harry sighed and he walked down to where Malfoy was, shoes slapping against the concrete loudly as he walked. He stood a couple feet to the left of Malfoy. _This is so embarrassing._

“With me this time. We start just standing, as one normally would. Back straight, head up. _Do not look down at your feet, Potter, or so help me, Merlin_.” Malfoy's voice was commanding. Dominating.

“But how am I--?”

“You don't need to look down at your feet to make sure you're doing this right. Look ahead and listen to what I'm telling you.” Malfoy was doing just this: back straight, head up and feet parallel with each other. Harry noticed that Malfoy seemed to be in his element. He was born for these kinds of dances, if not more complex than a _waltz_. The air of confidence and arrogance that seemed to waft from Malfoy was almost overkill. Harry bit his lip and looked forward. He tried to copy exactly how Malfoy was standing, tried to act as confident as he could. Apparently, Malfoy deemed this acceptable because he began talking again with no complaint.

“Left foot forward, right foot forward and out.” Harry followed this as Malfoy said it. “Bring them together,” Harry heard the heels of his shoes click together. “Potter, you're not a barbarian, be gentle with your movements. Pay attention.” Malfoy’s voice was snappy, but it didn't have the same vicious bite to it Harry had expected. “Now we’re doing the last three counts. If I hear another _clack_ from your shoes…” Malfoy didn't finish his sentence. “Right foot back, behind your left about half a pace. Left follows out, right glides right back in next to your left.” Harry's shoes did not click together. “Finally.” Malfoy brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and squeezed.

“Hey! I didn't do bad!” Harry said, defensiveness in his voice. He looked at Malfoy, hoping for praise of some kind as to how well he's improved.

“You're still atrocious. Listen. Master that, then you can move on to the actual dance, yeah?” Malfoy turned to leave.

“Wait!” Harry almost reached out and grabbed Malfoy by the arm.

Malfoy turned and recoiled, almost expecting to be grabbed himself.

“You'll keep helping me?” Harry hated how desperate his voice sounded.

That stupid, _stupid_ fucking smirk was back.

“Sure, Potter.” And Malfoy turned on his heel and left the hall, footsteps echoing on the cement as he left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited to remove epithets and fix a few minor issues.

The next morning, Harry rolled out of bed very early, before the sun had risen. The previous night, he had left the Great Hall just a few minutes after Malfoy left him. Things were so much easier now that he knew he didn't need music to practice just yet: it was relieving to know he didn't have to sneak down to the Great Hall every other night and risk other people hearing him.

Harry decided to stay in his comfortable pajamas (cotton pants and a loose white t-shirt) until it was closer to the time to go down for breakfast. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he walked to the middle of his room and assumed the starting position of the dance. He had to get as much practice in as possible if he wanted to do this dance right in time for Yule. _Step forward, to the side, together, step back, to the opposite side, then close._ Harry stumbled a few times and he kept accidentally bringing his feet together a few counts too soon. He finished with confidence and in the right position, but he still needed to practice. Harry tried again, this time slower. He completed the counts, bringing his feet together gracefully at the end. Harry smiled in spite of himself. _Sure, Malfoy thought he was absolutely embarrassing_ . _But_ , Harry figured, _I'm in a much better position than I was 12 hours ago._

Harry repeated these steps several more times, speeding up the tempo just a bit with every run. Each time, he became more fluid, more graceful and much more confident. Harry tried to close his eyes ( _couldn't be must different than just looking ahead, right?)_ while he practiced the set again, but he was _very wrong_. It was much different, turns out, as Harry lost his balance in the middle of the third count and toppled over, nearly hitting his head on one of the posts on his bed.

“Christ!” Harry's eyes shot open and his arms flew out to catch his balance. “Not quite ready for that, Harry,” he muttered to himself. He grabbed his wand and cast a quick _Tempus_ , and figuring that it was still much too early to go down to breakfast, he spent the rest of his free time going over his neglected homework from the night before. Harry almost finished everything by the time the sun had fully risen, telling him it was time enough that he went down to the Great Hall.

 

\--------------------

 

“So,” Harry piped up next to Hermione, keeping his voice low, “something interesting happened last night.” He said this through a mouthful of buttered toast. Hermione encouraged him to go on by furrowing her eyebrows inquisitively and eyes expectant as she was busy chewing her own meal. Harry lowered his voice more and Hermione leaned towards him. “You know how McGonagall said I've got to do that...thing later this year?” Hermione nodded. “Well last night, I came down here, and was practicing, and...Malfoy came in the middle of it.” Hermione's eyebrows shot up. “Right?” Harry continued, almost struggling to keep his voice down, and Hermione finished her bite.

“Did he say anything? What did he want?” Hermione kept her voice a whisper as well.

“Oh,” Harry paused, then gave a non-committal shrug. “Not much really. I told him to bugger off when I saw him. Just thought it was weird he was roaming around.” Harry didn't look at Hermione as he said this, and opted to take another bite of his toast instead. He felt like this was something he wanted to keep to himself for a while. It seemed private...almost _special_ . Harry turned his head and looked down the long table where he knew Malfoy would be seated. Sure enough, the blond was sitting at the end of the table, eyes focussed on his place. Harry's eyes trailed down to Malfoy's hand that held a fork between the fingers. Harry's mind flashed back to last night when he saw Malfoy fiddle with the record player’s needle. Malfoy's fingers were slender and pale ( _and cool_ , Harry's mind supplied, recalling the handshake from before), and seemed to touch everything with delicacy and care. A shudder ran down Harry's spine and he forced himself to look away, cleaning his throat, and forcing himself to focus on the meal in front of him.

“ Come on, we have Transfiguration first thing, and we can't be late.” Hermione picked up her books and slung her bag over her shoulder. Other students had already left to go to class, but Malfoy stayed behind, even as Hermione and Harry left the Great Hall.

Walking into the Transfiguration classroom, Harry did not recognize the professor. She was a tall and thin older woman who had blonde hair that measured down past her waist, and a thin face that had inconsiderable amounts of makeup dashed around it. Harry and Hermione took their seats toward the front and took out their books, waiting for class to start.

“Welcome, welcome!” The woman stood from behind her desk. “I know a few others are trickling in, but today is going to be an easy but busy day.” Harry could feel Hermione straightening up beside him. “Please! Just take out your textbooks, read chapters one through five and,” she waved her wand to flip the blackboard, “answer these questions. Due by the end of the period.” She had a large smile plastered on her face, the corners of her eyes crinkling at the edges. She turned around and began to sort through a few leaves of paper and small items that scattered around her desk. The room had fallen into a silence, and only the sound of rummaging through bags and flipping of pages could be heard. Harry immediately leaned over to Hermione.

“Did she even say who she was?” Harry wore a grimace while he whispered this. Hermione stayed silent, eyes attached to the book and she tipped her quill down and pointed at the blackboard. Harry turned to look, and at the top read _Professor Rednoir._ Harry's grimace deepened and he pushed himself back in his chair, letting one hand dangle noncommittally toward his bag and finally get his textbook out. He flipped through the pages, keeping his thumb at chapter one and flipping all the way to chapter five. His jaw dropped as he looked at the thickness from beginning to end and saw that it was about a quarter of an inch. More unmotivated than ever, Harry flipped back to page one and began to read.

Harry kept getting distracted by the occasional student that would walk into the class, and be moving to their seat. He looked up every time he heard someone walking through the door. He found that after reading a few lines, that he couldn’t keep focused for the life of him. He kept rereading the same line over and over, only to repeat the cycle with the next sentence of the paragraph; he would also notice small things like an out of place fiber on the end of his quill, or a piece of hair that just _refused_ to keep out of his eyes. A couple minutes later, someone sat in the seat next to him and he heard a book thump on the wooden desk and flip open. Harry turned and struggled to hide his surprise when he saw Malfoy sitting a mere two or so feet away from him. Malfoy met Harry’s eyes and then promptly looked back down to his textbook, expression distant. Harry looked back down as well, trying to focus on his reading again, and immediately found that it was useless: the material was boring, the class around him was quiet and comfortable, and Malfoy was sitting _right there._ He could hear the tapping of Professor Rednoir’s shoes as she paced around the front of the classroom, diligently organizing and flipping through papers, and in addition, there was the occasional sigh from another student from somewhere in the classroom, accompanied by the soft flipping of pages. And it certainly didn’t help that Harry had suddenly become hyper-aware of Malfoy’s gentle breathing next to him.

Harry dared to turn his head again to look at Malfoy but quickly turned back around front because Malfoy was looking _right at him_ and they locked eyes for only a short second. Harry could feel his face prickling with embarrassment as he tried his best to make it seem like he was _very intent_ on reading the class material. He stared down at his book wide-eyed, and lips pursed tightly. Taking a deep breath, Harry stretched out his arm on the table in front of him and laid his head on his tricep, letting his hand dangle out beyond the tabletop, facing away from Malfoy, and propping his book in a standing position beside him, so he could at least _pretend_ to be reading this book. Slowly, his eyes started to close…

In his head, he was reciting the dance set he had become so intimate with over the past day and a half, but he was committed to getting everything about it perfect.. Recalling each step for every beat, and imagining it with great detail. Harry couldn’t say why he had suddenly become so obsessed with it lately: it was just a silly dance he would do in full in his life once, then be done, and never have to worry about foot placement or counts ever again. Be that as it may, Harry realized that he _wanted_ to worry about the counts, the beats, the foot placements, the _intimacy_ , the whole nine yards. It was something, it seemed, that gave him _purpose_ this tedious experience that was popularly known as _life._ Harry opened his eyes and lifted his free hand, stretching out his index and middle finger and pointed them down on the desk, mimicking two legs of a person standing. Harry moved the fingers in the same step progression that he recited in his head several times before...Harry’s hand froze-- something was tickling the back of his neck gently. He slowly lifted his head and tilted his head around. Beside him, Malfoy’s eyes looked a bit glazed over and out of focus; he seemed to be staring at absolutely nothing down at his desk and seemed to not notice Harry looking at him.  Malfoy had been twiddling absent-mindedly with his quill between his fingers, twirling it between each of his digits, and the tip of the quill just so happened to be reaching over to Harry’s side of the desk every so often. Harry thought for a moment, considering the fact that Malfoy didn’t know he’d be caught, and with a small, almost bashful smile, he turned his head back again, letting Malfoy continue as he was.

The tickling on his neck, although soothing, was sending shivers down Harry’s spine and goosebumps pleasantly prickled on his arms, and Harry closed his eyes again, drifting off.

Before he knew it, Professor Rednoir’s voice rang through the classroom. _Had he fallen asleep?_ “Alright, everyone,” she clapped her hands sharply and Harry’s head shot up. “Since not many of you finished this assignment in the time I gave, quickly write these questions down on your parchment and have them ready and answered by Friday’s lesson.” Harry quickly scribbled down the questions that were written out on the blackboard. “We will discuss the answers in class after turning them in.” Rednoir smiled again as everyone around Harry stood. Harry snuck one last glance at Malfoy before the blond rushed to put his items together and leave the classroom at a brisk walk. Harry could have sworn that he could see a splash of rosiness across Malfoy’s cheeks as he left.  A vague, humorous smile stretched Harry’s lips as he packed up his things.

 

_Ten days later_

 

Over the past week and a half, Harry tried his best to balance all of his school workload on top of using every free minute he managed to squeeze in to practice the foot movements that Malfoy had thus far taught him. He felt like he was ready for the next part of the routine, but didn’t know how to tell Malfoy that he wanted to learn more. The pattern of movement was almost second nature to him now, and it was _almost_ like Harry was getting bored of the same movements over and over.

Tonight, he stayed behind after dinner in the Great Hall to try to catch Malfoy before he left. Harry quickly scrambled out of his seat--getting a weird, almost worried look from Hermione--when he saw Malfoy get up to head to the main doors of the Hall. 

“Malfoy!” Harry jogged up to Malfoy who, thankfully, heard him and stopped.

“What is it, Potter?” Malfoy turned around and looked at Harry with one eyebrow lifted.

“Well,” Harry was suddenly nervous. “I...well, I was hoping…”

Malfoy sighed, jutting out one foot and tapping it quickly to the floor. “Out with it, Potter,” despite his body language, Malfoy had developed a smile on his face.

“Oh fuck off, you know what I’m asking.” Harry wanted to hit Malfoy in his stupid, beautiful face.

_Wait...Beautiful? No, no, that wasn’t right...Obnoxious...of course: obnoxious. That’s what he meant…_

“Follow me.” Malfoy did not wait for Harry to respond before he turned around again and walked purposefully out the main doors. Harry jogged to catch up to him and then fell in step next to him. He wanted to ask where they were going but figured Malfoy wouldn’t reply anyway, so he opted instead to shove his hands in the pockets of his trousers, and walk in silence.

After several minutes of walking, Malfoy cleared his throat. “Did you practice?” Malfoy turned his slender head toward Harry who replied readily.

“There wasn’t much to practice.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t!” Malfoy’s voice became snappy as the volume in his tone rose.

“Of course I practiced, you git. I practiced every day that I could.” Harry struggled to keep his voice even, He wasn’t going to become defensive now.

“Good.” Malfoy’s pace slowed in speed, then eventually halted in front of a large wooden door, not dissimilar to the other doors in the building. “Here we are, then.” Malfoy pushed open the door and the two men walked inside.

The room was dark and small, but as soon as they took another step inside, the room lit up from seemingly nowhere. There was barely anything inside this room: the walls around him were blank, no rugs were on the floor and no statues either. All that stood in this room was a small wooden stool sitting several feet away from a large, black grand piano. Harry swallowed nervously.

“Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Malfoy strode over to the piano and sat gracefully on the bench that accompanied it. “Ready?” Harry had to blink his widened eyes a couple of times as he stared at Malfoy. _Malfoy could play piano?! Oh, Christ._ Malfoy seemed to not notice (or he chose to ignore) Harry’s incredulous expression and instead stared back, lifting his eyebrows expectantly.

“Yeah.” Harry shrugged off his robe and tossed it across the back of the piano. The white shirt beneath was slightly wrinkled, and the tie was slightly askew. “Yes.” Harry nodded this time, confidence slowly coming back. He lifted his chin and straightened his back, excited to show Malfoy how well he’s done.

“Very well. Tempo is at sixty beats per minute, and we’ll start with five repetitions.” Harry opened his mouth to interject frantically, but Malfoy shouted over him. “Five! Six!” Harry quickly straightened his back again, breathing heavy, and swallowing his words. “Five, six, seven, eight.” Malfoy counted the beats as he began to play a slow, rich waltz tune from the keys. Harry was so surprised by this that he missed the first two counts, coming in late. Malfoy immediately stopped playing after the fourth beat and frowned angrily at Harry, who stumbled over himself to a halt. “I thought you said you were practicing?” Malfoy’s voice was cool and dripping with cynicism.

“Of course I practiced, but do I _look_ like I know a single word that came out of your mouth?” Harry’s arms flew up in an exaggerated gesture.

“Excuse me.” Malfoy stood, and took a bow, bending at the waist. “Let me reword that for you.” Malfoy’s voice had become dangerously calm. “I thought you would practice _properly_.” Upon hearing this, Harry narrowed his eyes and swiftly walked up to Malfoy, pointing his index finger in his face.

Harry grit his teeth, then spoke. “I practiced every minute I could, you prick.”

Malfoy held Harry’s eyes for several moments before he slowly reached out and pushed Harry’s pointing hand, gently lowering it down. _That hand._ The same familiar coolness gently made contact with the flat part of skin between the index finger and thumb on Harry’s hand.

“Very well.” Malfoy took a small step back, pushing the bench behind him backward with the backs of his legs. “Good luck with whatever the hell _this_ is for, Potter.” Malfoy gestured at Harry’s chest before stepping around him and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Harry blurted this out, surprising himself. He inwardly grimaced when Malfoy stopped (but did not turn around). Even _he_ could hear the desperation in his own voice. Malfoy stood silently still, waiting. Harry, after a few seconds, sighed. _In for a penny, in for a pound._ “Please. Just…I’m sorry, alright? I wanted to just...show you I’ve been practicing, and…” Harry took a deep, shaky breath. “I feel like you really set me up to fail with all that,” Harry motioned lamely toward the piano. “Just stay, will you?”

Harry could see Malfoy’s shoulders move up and down as he breathed deeply. “Oh, I most certainly was expecting you to fail, Potter.” Malfoy turned his head around and slightly to the side so Harry could see only part of his face. The corner of Malfoy ’s lips were turned upward. “I’m _honored_ that the Golden Boy himself is pleading for my help.” Malfoy turned around, fully facing Harry and bringing his hand to his chest dramatically and Harry just rolled his eyes in response. “It would be my _privilege_ to be the one to assist Hogwarts’ own Harry Potter.” A sly smile revealed a glimpse of Malfoy’s white teeth.

Harry closed his eyes and brought his index finger and thumb up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t you dare pretend that _I’m_ the insufferable one, Potter.” There was a hint of playfulness in Malfoy’s voice, and Harry just shook his head slowly.

“You’ll stay, then?”

“Yes, I’ll stay.” Malfoy’s voice turned softer, and almost had a tender quality to it.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and walked back toward the piano with Malfoy at his heels. Malfoy’s arm grazed Harry’s as the blond passed him and sat again at the piano. Malfoy raised his hands to begin playing once more, then paused.

“Actually…” Malfoy stood again and raised his wand from inside his robes and the music continued by itself, and somewhere in the near vicinity, a metronome started ticking. “There.” Malfoy discarded his own robe, tossing his wand down on top of it. Harry watched him, wearing a puzzled expression the entire time he witnessed this scene unfold. Malfoy stood beside him and turned his head, nodding at Harry expectantly.

For the better part of thirty minutes, the two men recited the movements in sync with each other, each repetition becoming more fluid than the last.

“So tonight,” Malfoy began when they stopped for a short break, “I figure we can move further and _actually learn_ the dance.” Malfoy’s statement was met with Harry’s baffled expression. Malfoy continued. “There’s an upbeat and a downbeat.” He gestured for Harry to watch his feet. As Malfoy brought his left foot forward, he bent his knees slightly into the beat, almost into a bow. He followed with his right foot, pulling to place it shoulder-length away from his right and then gliding up on the balls of his feet, and then bringing his left to meet with his right in the same position. “And then,” Malfoy’s voice drawled as he swung his right foot back behind his left a couple inches and bending his knees to dip down into the position. His left food followed, landing shoulder-length apart once again and his legs straightened while rolling onto the balls of his feet, then bringing his right foot in to meet his left, halting in this place while slowly lowering his heels down flat.

Harry stared at Malfoy for a long minute, blinking several times. “Sure, okay,” he said at last. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

It was a long and frustrating hour for Harry and Malfoy both. For the first couple dozen repetitions, Harry kept moving up or lowering down on the wrong beat, becoming rapidly confused until Malfoy showed him step by step again, working in unison. After one successful repetition, they copied it over and over until the moves became more fluid and more graceful with each step.

During a quick rest, Malfoy looked up from his shoes, shy eyes meeting Harry’s face. “Let’s try something different."

“ _What_ ?!” Harry stared back at him, wide-eyed. _A whole new dance?!_

“No, no,” Malfoy shook his head. “The same movements, Potter, just a different _way_.” Malfoy tilted his head down again and thrust himself gently from the piano he was leaning against. He walked carefully towards Harry and stopped when there was barely two feet of space between them.

“What are you…” Harry’s voice trailed off as Malfoy silently reached out and gingerly grabbed Harry’s right arm and pulled him closer, and Harry could now feel Malfoy’s warm breath breeze gently across his forehead.

“Place your hand on my shoulder blade.” Malfoy’s voice lowered in not only volume but also pitch. Harry didn’t reply, only compiled as he kept his eyes on Malfoy’s face, noticing the slight shade of pink that _definitely_ wasn’t there before. Harry’s hand shook as he slid his hand around to Malfoy’s back, placing uncertain fingers across the prominent shoulder blade he found. The warmth from his hand quickly transferred to the fabric of Malfoy’s shirt, and Harry would have bet a hundred Galleons that he felt a small shiver beneath his hand. Harry watched as Malfoy placed his hand on the outside of Harry’s bicep, splaying his fingers across the sleeve there, and Harry could feel the cool tips of Malfoy’s fingers through the cotton. “Now,” Harry could hear a soft tremble in Malfoy’s voice as he spoke. “Face your other hand out, palm facing upward.” Harry obeyed, stretching his arm out slowly. Malfoy stretched his arm as well and slotted his hand on top of Harry’s, placing their palms together. “Very good.”

“So--” Harry was immediately cut off by Malfoy’s voice, a touch too loud.

“And now we dance. Are you ready?” Malfoy seemed to avoid meeting Harry’s eyes as he spoke. Harry could only nod, and Malfoy began counting along with the metronome and the beat of the piano music that was still playing around them.

“Wait. Wait, if we both start one foot forward, won’t we…” Harry furrowed his eyebrows and Malfoy finally met his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“I do appreciate your attention to detail, Potter. However, this is not my first waltz. Just dance as I’ve shown you, and I’ll follow.” _He winked! That was most definitely a wink!_  His voice returned to the soft baritone sound, and something tickled in the pit of Harry’s stomach as he nodded. Malfoy began counting again, and they began, then Harry noticed that Malfoy had started the dance moving backward. _Now,_ this made sense. The rise and fall of each beat seemed easier to grasp when he was sharing the dance with another person. Harry couldn’t help but smile as they moved around in a circle, repeating the steps over and over, at least a dozen times. “Now, slightly turn your feet to your right with each step. Ready?” Malfoy, Harry noticed, was smiling as well, and seemed to genuinely be engrossed. He didn’t even wait for Harry to reply before Malfoy started turning his feet at a slight angle and Harry was forced to follow suit. Now they were rotating! Harry was laughing, looking up at the ceiling of the room as he danced. When he looked back down, Malfoy was watching him, a mischievous grin showing his teeth. Suddenly, the hand that was grazing on Malfoy’s shoulder blade detached, and he was being projected out with one hand still holding Malfoy’s. He stopped and saw that he was side by side with Malfoy. Both of their free arms were outstretched and Malfoy was still grinning at him, nodding. Harry didn’t have time to question what Malfoy was trying to tell him because the hand that was holding Malfoy’s was being pulled, and Harry understood: he’s seen this before, he only hoped he was taking the hint correctly. Harry spun around into Malfoy’s outstretched arm, and he could feel the blond’s arm enclose around him, and before he knew it, his shoulder was squeezed against Malfoy’s chest, and for a split second, Harry could see Malfoy’s blushing face as he was dipped back,  like he was being baptized in a bath. Harry couldn’t help but laugh as his head flew all the way back, seeing the room upside down. When he lifted his head again, his heart stopped.

There, inches from his face, were Malfoy’s lips. Harry’s eyes trailed down and locked his eyes on them. They were a soft pink color and looked _very_ soft. Harry gasped softly when he saw a pink tongue dart out and moisten the lips. _They were incredibly close...It’d be a crime not to, right?_  Harry leaned in cautiously and very quickly became disoriented. With one quick movement, he was back upright, and no longer touching Malfoy. Malfoy had pulled him out of this position and gently shoved Harry a few feet away.

“I think that’s all for tonight. Work on that for now.” Malfoy’s face was a furious red as he scooped up his wand and robe, waving his wand again to stop the music and metronome. He quickly left the room before Harry could interject or try to stop him.

  
Harry’s heart felt heavy, and something akin to adrenaline was coursing through his veins, but also making him very sad. Something like ice is what it felt like: cooling his heart and making it drop to the bottom of his stomach. Harry licked his lips after Malfoy left and looked around the room, trying to comprehend what the _hell_ had just happened. _Were they just moments away from...from kissing? Why would they do that? And why was Harry disappointed that it didn’t happen?_ Harry grabbed his wand from his waistband and cast a quick _Nox_ before leaving the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Critique encouraged.


End file.
